A Wrinkle in Thyme

by Sarah Fox

  “What’s wrong?” Brett asked after several seconds of silence.

  “Nothing, really,” I said. “I just remembered how Tommy said he’d given up hope that the hit-and-run case would get solved.”

  “You haven’t given up hope too, have you?”

  “Not yet.” I got to the point of what was really on my mind. “But I wish I could do something to help.”

  Brett ran a hand down my hair. “You’ve already done lots.”

  “It doesn’t feel like it. The driver still hasn’t been found.”

  “You went looking for Tommy when he was missing,” Brett pointed out. “Who knows how long he would have been lying in that ditch if you hadn’t.”

  I suppressed a shudder. “I can’t even bear to think about it.” I fell quiet for a minute before speaking again. “Still, I wish I could help identify the driver.”

  “What are you planning?” Brett asked as he tucked my hair behind my ear.

  “Nothing. Yet. I don’t know what to do.”

  “Don’t worry,” he said, and I could hear the humor in his voice. “It’ll come to you. Just be sure to let me know once you know.”

  I smiled into his chest. “Are you going to be my partner in crime-solving?”

  “Partner in everything,” he said.

  I raised myself up on one elbow so I could kiss him. “Forever.”

  * * * *

  By the next morning, I did have a plan. It wasn’t much of one, but at least it gave me something to focus on. I couldn’t put it into action until after work, so I tried to stay focused on other things in the meantime. As soon as I had The Flip Side ready to open, I sent a text message to Sienna, telling her how much I loved her book already and how I’d had trouble putting it down. I didn’t want to leave her in suspense. Hopefully my text message would put her at ease.

  Everything I told her was the absolute truth. I’d read the first several chapters the night before and another one over breakfast. I would have kept reading if Brett hadn’t pointed out the time to me.

  Sienna’s book was a cozy mystery, my favorite kind. I already adored her spunky heroine, Caroline, and I enjoyed the seaside setting and the cast of quirky characters. I could tell that Sienna had drawn upon her experience of growing up in a small town, and her writing left me truly impressed. I didn’t doubt that she could have a career as a writer if she set her mind to it.

  Many of the customers who showed up at the pancake house for breakfast, brunch, and lunch had attended Wild West Days the night before. Most intended to go back again either this evening or over the next couple of days. I didn’t hear a bad word about the event, and it seemed everyone was hoping this wouldn’t be the only one of its kind. When I brought up the idea of Pirate Days, which had been mentioned at Brett’s poker night, several customers voiced their enthusiasm for it. I decided it was worth making a suggestion to the committee that had organized Wild West Days.

  I didn’t have much time to pause for a rest while The Flip Side was open, but after closing for the day, I enjoyed a late lunch of frittata in the kitchen while Ivan prepared a few things for the next day and tidied up.

  “How did things go with Lisa’s family?” I asked.

  I suspected I already knew the answer. It probably wouldn’t have been obvious to anyone who didn’t know Ivan well, but I’d noticed several times throughout the day that he didn’t look as dour as usual. My guess was that meant that he was practically floating with happiness.

  “It went well,” he said as he washed his hands at the sink. “They seem happy for Lisa.”

  “I’m glad,” I said with a smile. “I’m so excited for you guys.”

  He nodded his thanks as he dried his hands. “I’m a lucky man.”

  “And Lisa’s a lucky woman.”

  I didn’t stick around the pancake house much longer. I’d arranged to meet up with Brett in the late afternoon, so he could help me with my plan, such as it was. I killed time until he arrived home from work by taking Bentley for a walk on the beach. I even kicked off my shoes and dared to wade into the ocean up to my ankles. My feet didn’t go numb immediately, which was a positive sign. Maybe the water would be warm enough for me to take a swim sooner than I thought.

  After Brett arrived home, we hopped in his truck and drove along Wildwood Road in the direction of the highway.

  “Whereabouts were Tommy’s phone and wallet found?” Brett asked.

  “Right around here, I think.” We’d reached a gentle bend in the road.

  I’d texted Tommy earlier in the day, asking if he could be more precise about where the items had been found. He asked Ray and got back to me, saying they were located in the bushes near the final bend in the road before the highway. The highway wasn’t yet in sight, but I could hear cars zooming by now and then.

  Brett pulled his truck onto the grassy verge and shut off the engine. I hopped out and jumped across the dry ditch. Ferns and bushes grew directly in front of me, with the forest starting within a few more feet.

  “I should have brought a big stick,” I said, eyeing the bushes I intended to search.

  “I’ve got something that might work.” Brett reached into the bed of his truck before joining me across the ditch. He passed me an old broom handle.

  “Thanks. That’ll help.” I used the stick to nudge aside some ferns so I could get a look beneath them.

  “What are you hoping to find?” Brett asked as we worked our way along the edge of the ditch, searching the bushes.

  “Tommy’s camera, ideally.” I knew he’d love to have it back. “Other than that, I don’t really know. I guess I just need to feel like I’m at least trying to help out.”

  “I’m sure Ray and his deputies came out and had a look after Tommy’s wallet and phone were turned in,” Brett said.

  “I know.” Which meant we were likely wasting our time.

  That seemed to be the case as the minutes passed, with us turning up nothing other than a few pieces of trash. Brett collected those—while wearing work gloves—and put them into a garbage bag he’d retrieved from the truck.

  After we’d searched all the way up to and around the bend, we moved a few feet into the woods and headed back toward the truck, checking among the trees and undergrowth. Again, all we turned up was some trash.

  “At least we’re cleaning up the environment,” I said with a sigh of disappointment when we arrived back at our starting point. “I knew we weren’t likely to find any clues, but it really would have made Tommy’s week—maybe his entire month—if we’d turned up his camera.”

  “The driver probably kept the camera,” Brett said, and I knew he was likely right about that. “Or maybe he or she forgot about it and ditched it somewhere else later on.”

  I considered that possibility. “That could have happened. If the driver tossed Tommy’s things on the passenger seat, the camera could have fallen off. The driver was probably panicking or close to it. He or she might not have realized they’d forgotten to toss it out.”

  “But in that case, the camera could be miles away,” Brett pointed out. “If the driver didn’t hold onto it, that is.”

  “True.” My shoulders slumped, but then another thought raised my hopes again. “But maybe they didn’t drive very far before realizing they’d forgotten about the camera.”

  “We can’t search all the way along the highway,” Brett said. “Even if we had a whole search team, that wouldn’t be practical. We don’t even know if the driver turned left or right onto the highway. If they went out there at all.”

  I had to concede that he’d made good points. There weren’t all that many places to stop between where we stood and the highway, but there were a few houses and a road that led off through the woods and curved around to the southern part of the town.

  “Can we search a little longer?” I asked, not ready to
give up quite yet. “Another twenty minutes, and then I promise we’ll quit.”

  Brett agreed without complaint. I gave him a kiss, appreciating how he so willingly humored me time and time again.

  We jogged along the road to the farthest point we’d reached during the first phase of our search and continued on beyond that point. As the twenty-minute mark ticked closer, my hopes faded. I had nothing more to go on in terms of identifying the driver who’d hit Tommy, and it didn’t look like his camera was anywhere to be found.

  I was within minutes of admitting defeat and giving up when something glinted in a small shaft of sunlight filtering through the trees. I ventured farther into the woods, using the broom handle to shift aside some vines and spindly branches that almost tripped me up. I crouched down and parted some ferns.

  “Did you find something?” Brett asked, twigs snapping beneath his feet as he came over to join me.

  “It’s a cell phone.” I reached out to pick it up, but pulled my hand back before making contact with the device. “We know it’s not Tommy’s phone, so it can’t have anything to do with the hit-and-run, right?”

  Brett knew what I was getting at. “You’re worried about contaminating evidence? It’s probably not an issue, but I guess there’s always a chance the driver robbed other people that night.”

  I stood up, leaving the phone on the ground. “You’re right. Better safe than sorry.”

  “Here.” Brett took off his work gloves and handed them to me.

  I slipped them on. They were too big for me, but they would still protect the phone from my fingerprints. I picked up the device.

  “It doesn’t look like it’s in bad condition,” Brett said. “It probably hasn’t been here too long.”

  I tried to turn it on. Nothing happened.

  “The battery is dead, but that’s not surprising.” I checked the back of the phone. It had a plain black case and no special identifying features. “No clues as to whom it belongs to, but it’s the same model as mine. If I charge it and can get it to turn on, maybe we’ll be able to figure out whose it is.”

  “Worth a try,” Brett agreed.

  “There’s no point in telling Ray about it yet, is there?” I asked as we walked back toward the truck.

  “Let’s wait until we’ve at least tried to find out who the owner is. Someone probably just lost it.”

  I figured he was right about that.

  When we arrived home, I hooked the phone up to my charger and plugged it in before we turned our attention to preparing dinner. I made some curried couscous while Brett chopped up vegetables and marinated some jumbo shrimp. He took the shrimp and veggies out to the barbecue while I kept an eye on the couscous.

  As I fetched two plates from the cupboard, I heard Brett talking to someone out on the back porch.

  “You’ve got a visitor, Marley,” he called through the open French doors.

  Sienna stepped into the house. “Do you really like it?” she asked before I had a chance to say hello.

  She looked cautiously hopeful. I didn’t have to ask to know what she was talking about.

  “Like isn’t a strong enough word,” I said. “I love it. You’re so talented, Sienna. For real.”

  She squealed with delight and threw her arms around me, squeezing all the air out of my lungs.

  “Can’t…breathe,” I gasped.

  She released me. “Sorry!” She bounced up and down. “You really think it’s good?”

  “Yes.” I took her by the shoulders. “It’s seriously amazing. I’m ten chapters in and can’t wait to read the rest.”

  Brett poked his head in through the open door. “Do I get to read it next?”

  Sienna’s eyes widened. “I don’t know if my nerves can handle that. I’ve been a wreck ever since I emailed it to Marley.”

  “I guess I’ll have to wait till it’s published, then,” Brett said with a grin before disappearing from sight.

  “I’m so happy.” Sienna looked almost giddy. “Thank you so much for reading it.”

  “Believe me, it’s my pleasure,” I assured her.

  Sienna hung around for a few more minutes before heading home for her own dinner, a bright smile lighting up her face.

  By the time Brett and I had finished eating and had cleaned up the kitchen, I figured the phone would have enough of a charge to turn on if it wasn’t damaged inside.

  “Let’s see if we can get this thing powered up.” I unplugged it from the charger and hit the power button, using a tissue to protect the device from my fingerprints. I almost cheered when the phone turned on.

  The smile dropped from my face a few seconds later.

  I recognized the background of the lock screen.

  It was one of the covers for Pride and Prejudice.

  I was holding Jane Fassbender’s missing cell phone.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  “We need to call Ray,” Brett said as soon as I told him about recognizing the lock screen.

  I set the phone down on the kitchen table, taking even more care now to ensure that I didn’t leave any fingerprints on it. I hoped the tissue hadn’t wiped away any that had already been there.

  Brett had his phone out and was putting a call through to Ray. He had a short conversation with his uncle before hanging up.

  “He’ll be here in about ten minutes,” Brett said.

  I sat down at the kitchen table and stared at Jane’s phone, which had gone to sleep. “So, Jane’s killer stole her phone and then ditched it at the side of the road?”

  “Seems like it,” Brett said.

  “But why steal it in the first place?”

  “Maybe it had some incriminating evidence on it?” he suggested.

  “In that case, it would have been smarter to destroy it rather than simply tossing it in the bushes.”

  “Someone who just committed a murder might not be thinking too clearly.”

  “True,” I said. “But doesn’t it seem strange that we found it so close to the spot where Tommy’s wallet and phone were found?”

  “Maybe.” He didn’t sound entirely sure.

  I bit down on my lower lip as I continued to stare at the phone.

  “What are you thinking?” Brett asked.

  “Do you still have that pen with the stylus on the end?”

  “Sure. I think it’s in the office.” He headed down the hall to the front of the house. He reappeared seconds later with the turquoise pen.

  Keeping the tissue between my finger and the device, I woke up the phone again.

  “How are you going to unlock it?” Brett asked. “And don’t you think it would be best to leave this to Ray?”

  “Probably,” I conceded, but that didn’t make me give up on what I was doing. I was glad the phone didn’t require a thumbprint to unlock it, but I had to figure out the six-digit passcode if I wanted to access anything on the device. “I wonder what Jane’s birthdate is.”

  Brett opened the fridge. “You might be able to find out on Facebook.” He held up a jug. “Sweet tea?”

  “Please. And that’s a good idea.” I grabbed my own phone and searched the social media site until I found Jane’s profile. Fortunately, she had her birthdate there for everyone to see.

  I used the year and month, but without success. I tried again, changing the order of the numbers.

  “Darn.” I slumped down in my chair, feeling defeated.

  “Someone at the sheriff’s department will be able to crack it.” Brett poured two glasses of sweet tea. “We need to be careful. Sometimes a phone will automatically get erased after ten failed passcode attempts.”

  “Ugh. You’re right. I can’t risk that. Even if the information could be recovered, I’m pretty sure Ray would be furious.” I sat up straight. “Hold on. Jane loved Jane Austen’s books. She even has
the Pride and Prejudice cover as her lock screen.”

  Brett set one of the glasses on the table for me. “So you’re thinking her password could be Austen-related.”

  “I’m hoping so.” I used my own phone to access the Internet again. This time I looked up Jane Austen’s birthdate. December 16, 1775.

  I entered the numbers 121775 with the stylus.

  The phone unlocked.

  I exhaled with relief. “It worked!”

  Brett kissed the top of my head. “I married a smart woman.”

  “It was a lucky guess, really,” I said. “Although I probably shouldn’t argue with that statement.”

  “It’s a truth universally acknowledged,” Brett said with a grin.

  I smiled at that, although my attention was already shifting back to Jane’s phone. I used the stylus to take a look at the photos on the device, but they all seemed ordinary to me. She had a few pictures taken at the museum and others of flowers growing in someone’s garden.

  I checked her text messages next, but nothing jumped out at me as unusual or incriminating. She’d exchanged messages with Evangeline about the museum’s reopening party, and she’d also sent a few texts to Dean about the refinishing of the museum’s floors. Frankie was also in her contacts, but the messages they’d exchanged were unremarkable. The next conversation was between Jane and Adya Banerjee.

  Have you seen my silver bracelet? Adya had asked a few days before Jane’s death.

  No. Did you lose it? Jane had responded.

  Maybe, was Adya’s reply.

  No further messages followed.

  So Adya probably had told me the truth when she’d said she was searching Jane’s office at the museum for a lost bracelet. But why would she think it would be in Jane’s desk? Maybe she assumed that if Jane had found it in the museum, she would have tucked it away for safe-keeping. Considering how much Adya disliked Jane, it surprised me that she would have spent any time at the museum, but if she’d lost something there, she must have been present at some point.

  “Anything of interest?” Brett asked from across the room. He’d settled into an armchair with his glass of sweet tea.